


Emotions

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-06
Updated: 2007-09-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Jealousy. Rage. Fear. Love. Beyond the mask they put on for the world, it's easy to forget about the emotions of hidden characters. Read the stories of those left in the background. [Part 2: Pride]





	1. Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Author’s Note:** Well, here’s something new that I’ve never tried before. I’m more of a romantic person, but lately something about the relationships between major and minor characters in Harry Potter interested me. It always surprised me that a woman could hate her sister so much, or that someone could be just that prejudiced. Thus, the birth of this new story, _Emotions_.

Enjoy!

~~~**~*~**~~~

**Part One**

**Jealousy**

Petunia never forgot. She remembered everything.

She remembered the first Christmas Lily spent away from home.

She and Lily used to love Christmas. They used to help their father string up the lights, their mother bake the cookies. They used to decorate the tree together, and every year she and Lily would take turns to get up on their father’s shoulders and place the angel on top the Christmas tree.

The last time they had done that had been six years, a lifetime, ago.

Then she had gotten that _dratted_ letter and flounced off to that _dratted_ school and spent every other Christmas there. Christmases that she should have been at home, perched on her father’s shoulders, completing the tree with a flourish. Christmases that should have been spent as a family, with laughter and presents and joy.

On the day after Christmas she would write a letter home, detailing every little thing that she and her freakish friends had spent the previous day doing, with their _magnificent_ Christmas feasts, and their _exploding_ Christmas crackers and their _glorious_ snowball fights.

She hated Lily for those amazing Christmases that she had.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She remembered the first letter Lily wrote home from school.

It had been a week since she’d gotten there. They’d heard nothing from her for that week, a week where their parents had fretted and fussed about their precious little Lily. Petunia remembered that amidst her parents’ fears for her, she knew that her sister was just fine. Lily liked fun and excitement; she knew that she was just enjoying herself too much to write.

And sure enough, when that owl had flapped into the kitchen on day seven of no correspondence (sending her parents into fits of excitement and herself into a minor panic attack), she had confirmed that.

She had talked about the moving staircases, the enormous Entrance Hall, the walking suits of armour. There were the talking portraits, the secret passageways, the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. She wrote about the deep, dark, forbidden forest, the tree that walloped people when they got too close, and the poltergeist intent on pranking people. She explained how she had learnt how to brew potions to cure boils, how to turn a toothpick into a needle, and the uses of different magical plants. She had, above all, avidly described her new teachers, her lessons, and her classmates.

Lily had written about so much that Petunia wasn’t surprised it had taken her so long to write home. There was too much to do, too much to learn.

Her school sounded so amazing, so extraordinary, so full of life. It was so... _Lily_. Lily’s kind of place, Lily’s home away from home, Lily’s true calling.

She hated how Lily had found her real self in just one week.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She remembered the first time Lily got in trouble at school.

Petunia was surprised when that owl fluttered through the window and left that letter, emblazoned with the school’s coat of arms. That could only mean Lily - Lily, always the perfect and sensible one, in trouble?

Her mother had been the first to read the letter – and she had laughed, before passing it on to her father. Her father had instantly gone into hysterics, practically falling to the floor, when Petunia had walked into the room. She had rushed over to her father, worried that there was something wrong with him, when she realized that he was only laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she had asked.

She knew what the answer was even before she had been told. Her mother had handed her the letter, hiding a smile behind her hand, with one simple word.

_Lily_.

Her eyes had scanned the letter quickly, taking in only certain words. _Fellow student. Hexes. Retaliation._ _Kissed. State of shock._

From what she could deduce from that letter, Lily and a fellow student – a boy, it appeared – had been conspiring in a prank war against each other, climaxing one day when, in a fit of outrage, kissed him in front of the whole school and left him in a state of shock.

He hadn’t been the same since, apparently. He was now utterly besotted with her. Lily’s Head of House had said that she and the boy were in detention for the next two weeks for the prank war, but added that she felt Lily’s final prank was the most spectacular of all. After all, her nemesis was apparently part of the most notorious troublemakers at the school, and she had bested him.

She hated the fact that Lily had was in trouble at school, but still, _still_ her parents and teachers loved her for it.

But more than that, she hated the fact she had the audacity to even participate in something like this.

She hated that Lily had the courage to do what she could not.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She remembered the first time she lied about where Lily went during most of the year.

Her friend from school had asked, just out of curiosity, where her younger sister went during the school year. She was only curious, she had said, because Lily used to be around all the time, but in the past few years, she had been... well, nowhere. She didn’t go to any of the other local secondary schools, and nobody remembered seeing her around often.

It was a perfectly valid and fair question to ask.

She had babbled wildly on about how Lily’s grades hadn’t been good enough to go to any of the local schools, and how she had finally received a letter from this boarding school in Scotland that specialized in helping people that were ‘special’. It was a half-truth, to be fair – she just wasn’t specific about what made Lily ‘special’.

Her friend had raised an eyebrow, voicing her memories about how Lily had always been a remarkably intelligent girl when she was younger. Petunia had snapped at her, and said that Lily was at boarding school.

Her friend had stepped back defensively and accepted it.

After she had gone, Petunia had to sit down.

She reflected on the lies that she and her family had resorted to telling people, just to protect Lily’s secret, and she hated it.

She knew that with every lie she told, Lily’s position in her world was solidified further – she helped to protect her world by lying.

She hated the fact that Lily was, as she said herself, special.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She remembered the first time she met James Potter.

Petunia had met Vernon Dursley nearly three years previously, and now they were engaged. Everyone knew; the wedding was in June. Her parents had been slightly offbeat with Vernon at first, but they had warmed up to him following persistent dinners and pestering from Petunia. They recognized that he was everything Petunia had ever wanted – stability, security, _normality_ – and had given them their blessing. They liked him well enough.

But her perfect little sister had to outdo her again.

It was summer, and Lily had come home with a mysterious smile on her face. After some questioning, Lily admitted that she had a boyfriend. Her mother immediately invited him around for dinner. Petunia had also been there, and her mother had added: “Bring Vernon too,” almost as an afterthought.

The moment that James Potter had walked through the door that night, all smiles and greetings and gifts, her parents fell in love with him.

They loved his jokes and his anecdotes, and were particularly amused when they found out that he was the boy Lily had kissed all those years ago, and that he was still 'utterly besotted' with her.

Admittedly, Petunia could see why they loved him – he was tall and lanky, but in a handsome way, with a lopsided grin and twinkling hazel eyes behind his glasses. He radiated a sense of... _presence_ and was extremely charismatic – even Vernon, who despised him more than she did, was drawn to him at first. But most of all, her parents adored him because he made Lily happy.

Petunia saw the glow on Lily's face, the sparkle in her eyes as she introduced James to her family. There was a bounce to her step that had never been there before, coupled with the constant beam on her face. He and Lily had a brilliant effect on each other, making them shine and shimmer like no other couple she had seen before. They were so in love Petunia almost felt ashamed of her own fiancé.

She shut that thought out of her head the second it entered it, and instantly grew angry.

How _dare_ they waltz in here and ruin everything? How _dare_ they make her feel this way? Vernon was a good man - he offered her security, normality and a comfortable life. Things that they could never have. Vernon loved her, and provided her with everything that she’d ever want and need. They would live a perfectly happy, normal life together.

But even with that reassuring thought in her mind, she could not help but watch the two of them all through dinner, beaming brightly at each other and stealing kisses when they thought nobody was looking. She watched them recount their tales at school and their playful teasing of each other.

She felt a jolt of shock when James declared that he would, without a doubt, one day marry Lily. Lily had rolled her eyes, but beamed at his announcement. Her father had laughed and clapped him on the back, wishing him luck. Her mother gave them her blessing instantaneously. Vernon’s eyes had narrowed to the point when they were no more than little slits in his face. And she... she didn’t know what to think.

They were so young and so reckless. They were so wild and uncontrolled – and free.

They were so _alive_ , and bright, and vibrant.

They were everything she had imagined love and life to be, and she hated Lily for it.

Before James had left, her parents had invited him back for dinner again the following night. He apologized, and said that he already had plans, so then they invited him back for the night after. He had agreed smilingly – and nobody was surprised when her mother had given him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before Lily walked him out.

Petunia excused herself temporarily under the guise of needing the bathroom, and watched them from the front window.

“Well, that went well,” he was saying. Lily had rolled her eyes.

“I think that they’d adopt you tomorrow if they could.”

“Fine by me,” he was grinning. “Can I share your room?”

Then he had ducked, laughing, as Lily walloped him around the head. She pouted, and he pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“You’re going to be late for Remus and the others,” Lily protested, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He simply clung on tighter, and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly.

She couldn’t watch anymore after that.

That night, Vernon had declared his eternal hate for ‘that Potter boy’, and said that he couldn’t believe his Petunia, his perfect, normal Petunia, could be related to someone as weird and out of the ordinary as Lily. She had agreed absently, thinking deeply.

She agreed with Vernon – she hated James Potter. Hated how he was not normal, hated his heritage, hated how much her parents loved him. She hated how it took mere hours for her parents to love to him, yet it took months for them to even _like_ Vernon. She hated how her parents had practically begged him to return for dinner, and how they had accepted him into the family without question.

She hated how utterly infatuated Lily was with him, and he with her. She hated how Lily was no longer Lily Evans, her adoring younger sister, but rather Lily Evans, witch and future wife of a wizard. She hated how in love they were. She hated how they would never have a simple, normal life, like she was destined to.

She hated more than anything how Lily and James were everything that Petunia and Vernon were not.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She remembered the first time she truly realized Lily was dead.

She knew it from the start – from Lily’s eleventh birthday and the strange woman that turned up on the doorstep with her letter, that the _wizarding_ world would kill her. She knew that Lily diving in head first into a world that she knew nothing about was completely ridiculous. It was a dangerous place to be, and she had told her that from the start.

But she didn’t listen – and now some psychotic murderer was after her and her family.

Her husband was apparently part of some wealthy, well-respected family in their world. A position that had been, at one time, desirable, but now was what would probably kill them. This murderer wanted them on his side or out of the way or something along those lines, and she knew that Lily wouldn’t give in. She would fight to the end, like she did with everything.

The Dursleys had been living a perfectly normal, safe and secure life since Petunia had chosen to cut Lily out of her life. She had never wanted to be a part of Lily’s world, and after her parents’ death, she had no reason to anymore. She had not seen or spoken to Lily in years, in fact, until that day her letter arrived.

It was short and to the point, which surprised Petunia because she remembered Lily’s long and detailed letters from school. She kept it a secret from Vernon, hiding it under the mattress for three days before curiosity had finally gotten the better of her and she had read it.

In it, Lily had said straightaway that her family’s lives were in danger. She didn’t go into too many details, but there was enough in there to let her know that they had a mass-murdering Lord of some kind after them.

She said that soon she and James would be forced into hiding for the protection of their son. She said that Harry’s godfather was his first legal guardian, but should anything happen to him, she wanted her only sister to be the one that raised her boy.

Petunia had been shocked, surprised, and angry at that.

She had said that Harry was no ordinary boy, but she wanted him to have an ordinary life (Petunia had snorted at the irony) whilst he still could. In the wizarding world, there would always be someone after him, but in Petunia’s care, he would be safe. Lily had begged Petunia to help her out, this one last favour...

It was the word ‘last’ that cinched it.

Petunia had realized that when Lily wrote this letter, she was willing to die for her son. She was _expecting_ to die, and soon, by the sounds of it. She was willing to do anything to keep her son safe, even sending him to her estranged sister... and, she had added at the end, this would probably be the last time she’d ever hear from her, both out of respect to her sister and due to her probable death.

By the time she wanted to write back, it was too late – Lily was dead, the boy's godfather was apparently in prison, and Harry, her nephew, was left to her.

The first time she looked into the boy’s eyes, she felt shock. She realized that whilst Harry was here... Lily was gone. Harry, the constant reminder of the world that Lily had gotten herself mixed up in and died for. Harry, the symbol that even though Lily and James were dead, they still lived on in him. Harry, the reason why Lily was dead.

She hated how Lily had the chance to die for her son.

She hated how Lily had saved the world with her death.

She hated how Lily’s memory would forever live on.

She hated how Lily was so brave.

She hated how Lily had the life that other people could only dream of.

She hated how Lily always knew what she wanted and was never afraid to get it.

She hated how Lily was so special, so unique, and shone like a star every moment of her life, however short it may have been.

She hated how Lily made her feel so plain and _normal_.

But most of all, she hated the jealousy that she felt for her sister every moment of her life, because Lily’s only ever crime was being herself.


	2. Pride

**Author’s Note:** So since I’ve been back, I’ve been attempting to unpack all of the _stuff_ I’ve managed to accumulate over the past three weeks. Then I found, after day five of sorting through the mounds of _stuff_ , the piece of paper I scribbled several ideas on (there’s only so much you can do on a 12-hour plane journey). I immediately bounded over to the computer, and began writing... and well, here you are.

~~~**~*~**~~~

**Part Two**

**Pride**

All pureblood wizarding families had that unmistakeable air of pride about them.

Some felt that this was rightly so – they were like no other, the only people in the world that had pure magical blood running through their veins. They never had to taint the family with Muggle blood just to sustain themselves.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black gave a new meaning to the word ‘pride’. They were the extreme of all extremists.

Naturally, they were among the first to join Voldemort’s forces when he started gathering followers and gaining power. Bellatrix – Lestrange by marriage, but a Black by blood, and her non-existent heart – was the first one of the lot.

Needless to say, she was proud of what she did and what it meant, and soon she had swayed her youngest sister Narcissa – Malfoy by marriage, but a Black by body, soul and her cold, calculating mind – to join too. Narcissa, too, was proud of what she had done.

Then there was young Regulus, the avid fan. Sixteen years old when he joined the Death Eaters. Logically, he was proud that he had finally achieved what he strived to for so long (of course, no one ever mentions anymore when he fell out of favour with the Dark Lord and subsequently got himself killed, because that was what purebloods did _not_ stand for – disloyalty).

Therefore, it was a stain upon the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black when two – not one, but two – of their descendants turned out as black sheep. Or should it be white sheep?

Sirius, from the moment he was born, was always a rebel. He forced his mother into labour three weeks early and yelled, screamed, shrieked and spit up every moment of his babyhood. The terrible twos were worse – his parents had never been so exhausted, or had to replace so much furniture.

Then there was the real kick – when he was sorted into Gryffindor. His subsequent friendship with James Potter (blood traitor that he was) led to things spiralling downhill from there. Nobody was interested in him after that, not even when he apparently betrayed his long-time best friend and was sent to Azkaban. Nobody in the House of Black, by blood or by marriage, believed that he would actually join the Dark Lord. They knew their children, and a Black was never disloyal. But, as purebloods do, they kept quiet and to themselves – nobody else had a right to know their family’s business.

But there was still one more – the forgotten Black, if you will. Sandwiched between two overbearing sisters, and shadowed by the males in her family, it was quite easy to forget Andromeda.

As the second child – and second daughter, no less – she was always the one in the shadows. Not worshipped (at least, in his early years), as Sirius, the heir to the Black fortune, was, or cared for, as Regulus, the obedient second-in-line was. Not moulded as carefully as Bellatrix was, or pampered as Narcissa was. But it was enough.

Her mother had been instrumental in Bella’s upbringing, and you could say it was because of her that Bella turned out the way she did. Her father had adored Cissy, the baby of the family, and spoiled her rotten. There wasn’t much time for Andy-in-the-middle, but there was enough.

The three of them were sorted in Slytherin, obviously, when they attended Hogwarts. Bella was the rebel – once almost caught using an Unforgiveable on a little second-year Ravenclaw – and Cissy was cold and uncaring. Studies were not important to them as much as convincing other students that Muggleborns were scum, et cetera.

Andromeda was always the ‘good’ one. The good child, with the good grades, the good record, the good reports, the good student. For her parents, that was enough. She was the one that became a prefect and eventually Head Girl. Her parents threw her a party when they found out – not because they were proud, but because of tradition. But Andromeda didn’t care – it was enough.

That party, however, was full of people she barely knew. After the initial meet-and-greet rounds, she found herself in the corner, doing the first ‘bad’ thing in her life – knocking back the Firewhisky like normal people drink pumpkin juice.

Her ten-year-old cousin, Sirius, sidled up to her after the second bottle, and asked if she wanted company. She agreed, and as Sirius sat there in silence and watched her down another bottle, she was just about drunk enough to do the second ‘bad’ thing she had ever done in her life – influence a child that was already far too close to the edge to go over fully.

“You know, Sii-wwiii-us,” she had slurred, waving her bottle in his face (and causing most of it to slop down him, but neither noticed). “Don’ ever let anyone tell you wha’ to do. Don’ ever do things that you don’ wan’ too. Don’ end up like me. You can do alllll these good _th_ _ings_ to impress people, but a’ the end o’ the day, they don’ care ‘bout you. Someone else is always mo’ important. Do wha’ I do, an’ you’ll never feel like it’s enough.”

To anyone else, it would have simply been a case of Andromeda being drunk and speaking nonsense, but Sirius Black was an extremely perceptive ten-year-old. He knew that no matter how much she may have drunk, there was a certain amount of sobriety in her still, and took it all to heart.

So when the news came the following year that Sirius – horror of all horrors – had done the unthinkable, become a dreaded Gryffindor, she knew it had something to do with her words.

And, oddly enough, she was proud of that.

~~~**~*~**~~~

Slytherins are particularly proud people. They are cunning, and witty, and subtle. They do things quietly, with dignity. They are not bold and brash, like those brave, noble and _stupid_ Gryffindors. They do not see the world as a puzzle that needs to be solved, like Ravenclaws. They do not see the necessity in to place trust in absolutely _everyone_ , like Hufflepuffs. They are ambitious and proud.

When Andromeda went back to school the September after that party as the new Head Girl, she found herself wanting to gain the attention of not only her peers, but finally her parents, too. Seventeen years had been too long to simply just be ‘another daughter’ anymore.

She worked harder than ever that year to prove herself worthy of her badge. Dedicated patrolling every night. Hour after hour on studying. Tutoring younger students when she had the time.

In fact, she was so wrapped up in her duties, that she forgot to be horrible to her fellow Head (and coincidentally Muggleborn Hufflepuff) Ted Tonks.

Ted had always gotten on her nerves. He was always so _smiley_ and happy-go-lucky all the time, from the moment she had met him six years ago. He was nice to everyone, trusted everyone, and didn’t seem to be able to say no. She was always mean to him, and he always laughed it off. Andromeda hated people like that. People with no backbone, the Blacks had always called them.

One night in late January, the two of them were left on their own after a Prefects’ meeting. Whilst Ted was sitting there and throwing a ball that he had charmed somehow, at the wall, Andromeda was still scribbling down notes and trying to draw up a rota for patrol duties.

When the ball put a hole through the wall, she snapped.

“Will you _stop_?” she hissed, as the ball zoomed back into Ted’s hand.

He grinned. “Nope,” he said, and tossed it into the air. It rocketed around the room for a moment, and then headed for the hole in the wall.

Andromeda whipped out her wand. “ _Finite_ _Incantatum_ ,” she said irritably, and the ball dropped back down onto the floor. “Now will you help me? I want to get these rotas done before eight-thirty so I can get some studying done tonight.”

Ted frowned. “What studying? I’m in all your classes-”

“Unfortunately,” Andromeda muttered under her breath.

“-and there’s nothing we need to be studying for.”

Andromeda’s eyes almost popped out of her head at that. “Are you joking, Tonks? Do you not realize that we have NEWTs this year? They determine the rest of our _lives_ , and you don’t think we need to study for them?”

“Wow,” Ted said after a moment’s pause. “I didn’t realize that it was quite as dramatic as that.”

Andromeda had had enough by then. She slammed down her quill, and began to shove everything back into her bag with an unnecessary amount of brute force. She swung her bag over her shoulder, and was almost out of the room when something Ted said stopped her in her tracks.

“Why do you try so hard, anyway?”

She whirled around, a sharp retort on her lips, when it suddenly died.

Ted’s words had hit a nerve, and struck Andromeda with realization.

Why _did_ she try so hard?

Her parents had never cared, no matter what she did. Her future was as good as set in stone, with an impending engagement to Antonin Dolohov. It didn’t matter what she did at school, or how good her grades were – it would never be enough.

It was a matter of pride, Salazar Slytherin himself would tell her. She didn’t want to fail. Slytherins, and Blacks, were not failures. Andromeda Black was everything a Black should be. She wanted to show that she could be better than a business arrangement with another family, just another pureblood daughter to create more pureblood children.

But it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, she would simply be just another trophy wife.

Unless... she did something about it.

From that day on, she spent more and more time with Ted. Nobody was too horrified to see the two bent over a piece of parchment in the library and whispering to each other, but most people were when they were seen walking down a corridor to class together, laughing.

_Everyone_ was shocked when one day, in late June, pureblood Slytherin Andromeda went over to the Hufflepuff table and sat down next to Muggleborn Ted Tonks like she had always been there. Their romance was rumoured to have blossomed several months before, in fact, but they had kept it quiet.

Naturally, there was the Howler a week later when her parents found out about her ‘inappropriate’ relations with Muggleborns (courtesy of Narcissa). But most people were surprised to see that she opened it with pride, and displayed it for all to see as she ate breakfast with Ted. As soon as it had finished, she cleaned up the mess and was heard snickering to Ted: “Is that all they’ve got?”

It was a much different story when she went home that summer. School was over, and her life was just beginning.

She was not happy to see Dolohov and his mother in the sitting room when she walked in after getting home. She did not even bother with formalities and greetings – she simply pulled her own mother out of the room and told her:

“Mother, I’m leaving.”

Her mother had just stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “Andy, you just arrived home. The Dolohovs are here to discuss the terms of your engagement. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not marrying him, Mother.”

Which her mother had blinked at owlishly, and then said: “Well, of course you are. Who else would you marry?”

“Ted.”

A roaring silence ripped through the hallway. Andy could practically hear the Dolohovs straining their ears to hear what was going on.

“That Mudblood-”

“Don’t call him that!”

“-You met at school? Don’t be ridiculous, Andromeda.”

“I’m not. Me marrying Dolohov is ridiculous. Me marrying Ted is logical. Well, not really, considering I’ve only been with him a few months, but I love him, so I figured logical isn’t really that important.”

Her mother’s voice had started to become shrill and strained at that point. “You are a Black, Andromeda! How can you possibly marry a filthy Mudblood? He is below your status! You should be marrying into a respectable, _pureblooded_ family!”

“But I’m not,” Andromeda replied quietly. “I’ve sent ahead all my things to Ted’s. I’ll be staying with him from now on. Goodbye, Mother.”

And as she turned on the spot, her mother screeched after her: “You are no child of mine, and no daughter of the House of Black, Andromeda!”

Andromeda paused in her steps, and turned back around. “Enough just isn’t enough for me anymore, Mother,” she said gently, and continued on.

Standing up to her family may have been the proudest moment of her entire life, Andromeda surmised as she strode out of the house, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

~~~**~*~**~~~

She and Ted had married that October, in a Muggle ceremony. Once upon a time, it would have disgusted her, but she had stopped caring about these things long ago. As they danced together at their reception, she declared to Ted: “Andromeda Black is dead. I’m ready for a new life.”

Ted had grinned, kissed her on the cheek, and said: “She’s not dead. She’ll never be dead. So long as she’s part of you, I don’t want her to be dead.”

She had stared at him incredulously. “Andromeda Black was a horrible person, especially to you. How can you still want her around?”

He kissed her hand as they sat down again. “Andromeda Black was a proud person. Pureblood, Slytherin, daughter of the House of Black. Yet it was that same Andromeda Black that turned her back on her own family, her own heritage, that led to her being here with me today. Pretty good, don’t you think?”

She had always been a calm and composed woman, but Ted’s words left her gaping like a goldfish. He saw her expression, laughed, and kissed her again.

“Andy Black was a good person,” he told her. “Past all her family... _issues_ , she was a good person. But somehow I think Dromeda Tonks will be even more extraordinary.”

From that day on, Andromeda Tonks lived on, a happy woman with a wonderful family. She was proud of what she had given up to gain in her husband and daughter.

Ted had told her to never settle for ‘enough’. If there was one thing her heritage had taught him, was that Blacks never settled for enough. She had always lived under the impression to be grateful for what she had – but why stop there? None of the others did. They wanted what they wanted and were proud of it.

So Andromeda went for what she wanted.

She wanted love.

So she married her soulmate.

She wanted a child.

So she had a mischievous daughter.

She wanted a good life.

So she got it.

And she was damn proud of it.


End file.
